“Because he loved Skooma more than the Reach,” her mother had told her sadly and Shevawna had had her first introduction to the cruellest injustice the Reachmen had suffered. And everyone who came out of that Mine was like that, half-crazy with the shakes. Yet no one ever said, ever spoke about the fact their King was down there. The true Rhan-Brenin, Hero of the Reach, former King Under Stone turned King in Rags, the Silver Hawk himself, shut up in Cidhna Mine for twenty years now, surely well over forty by this time, in there longest of all... and everyone knew the longer you were in that place, the worse you were when you came out. No one ever dared say it out loud, but after all that time, what in Hircine's name was left of their King? And what hope without him?
But Shevawna couldn't really think about that now. All that was Keirine's problem, both a political and a deeply personal one. Shevawna was more concerned about Vilkas.
“Is he a Skooma addict?” she asked, bluntly. Everyone agreed those who admitted they had a problem had the best chance of survival. She wasn't sure if Vilkas was one of those or not. Although she'd never heard of Skooma enhancing one's senses...
“Not Skooma, no,” Kodlak sighed. “I almost wish it were, that I might be able to treat with your Matriarch's help. No, it's... something else. I don't think I can speak of it now, but... well. Never mind. I work with what I have, and I will not let Vilkas lose himself. Nor do I wish to see you or anyone else here come to harm because of him, don't worry. Let me think on what is to be done. In the mean time, you are clearly here, so do you have a letter for me?”
A hint of eagerness in his eyes and Shevawna kept her grin to herself as she handed it over. Well now. Someone had a fetish for Hagravens, it seemed. An unusual, almost blasphemous one, and yet there were stories of Hags entertaining themselves with captives, or with their Briarheart warriors. There were also stories of impressionable young men, and sometimes women, who became perhaps a little too fascinated with their Matriarchs. No one ever really explained what happened to those foolish enough to make their preferences known, but it was always implied it was... unpleasant.
Perhaps that wasn't always so – or perhaps Kodlak liked it that way. Shevawna decided no good would come of speculating, although the expression in his eyes did rather give things away. Sadness, but a wistful smile.
“So she wants us to keep you, and for you to do courier duty more often,” Kodlak mused. “She seems rather impressed by you at any rate. I think that's probably a good thing. In that case, you can stay. I can't make you officially a full Companion quite yet, but I think we can accommodate you. Rest and enjoy yourself tonight. Tomorrow, your weapons training starts in earnest.”
Weapons training. As if. She already knew what to do with both sword and axe, and she wasn't a bad shot with a bow either. Never mind. She'd show them. The Reach did not breed weaklings.
~~~~~~~~
A/N: Oh dear, poor Vilkas. Not entirely his fault, the beast blood is constantly eroding the poor man's self-control, but all the same, Vilkas you idiot. Never mind. He'll have his chance to redeem himself.
Notes on the Rhanic:
Ortallan - outsider Ainta - your name Dim Admorai - Not Nords Roketeenai - two handed weapons, based on keteen (compensation) and ro (over) Grondlann - greatsword, based on lann (sword) and I'm not translating the rest, but let's just say it's the unsubtle version of roketeen.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 3.9
Date: 2014-04-18 12:28 pm (UTC)But Shevawna couldn't really think about that now. All that was Keirine's problem, both a political and a deeply personal one. Shevawna was more concerned about Vilkas.
“Is he a Skooma addict?” she asked, bluntly. Everyone agreed those who admitted they had a problem had the best chance of survival. She wasn't sure if Vilkas was one of those or not. Although she'd never heard of Skooma enhancing one's senses...
“Not Skooma, no,” Kodlak sighed. “I almost wish it were, that I might be able to treat with your Matriarch's help. No, it's... something else. I don't think I can speak of it now, but... well. Never mind. I work with what I have, and I will not let Vilkas lose himself. Nor do I wish to see you or anyone else here come to harm because of him, don't worry. Let me think on what is to be done. In the mean time, you are clearly here, so do you have a letter for me?”
A hint of eagerness in his eyes and Shevawna kept her grin to herself as she handed it over. Well now. Someone had a fetish for Hagravens, it seemed. An unusual, almost blasphemous one, and yet there were stories of Hags entertaining themselves with captives, or with their Briarheart warriors. There were also stories of impressionable young men, and sometimes women, who became perhaps a little too fascinated with their Matriarchs. No one ever really explained what happened to those foolish enough to make their preferences known, but it was always implied it was... unpleasant.
Perhaps that wasn't always so – or perhaps Kodlak liked it that way. Shevawna decided no good would come of speculating, although the expression in his eyes did rather give things away. Sadness, but a wistful smile.
“So she wants us to keep you, and for you to do courier duty more often,” Kodlak mused. “She seems rather impressed by you at any rate. I think that's probably a good thing. In that case, you can stay. I can't make you officially a full Companion quite yet, but I think we can accommodate you. Rest and enjoy yourself tonight. Tomorrow, your weapons training starts in earnest.”
Weapons training. As if. She already knew what to do with both sword and axe, and she wasn't a bad shot with a bow either. Never mind. She'd show them. The Reach did not breed weaklings.
~~~~~~~~
A/N: Oh dear, poor Vilkas. Not entirely his fault, the beast blood is constantly eroding the poor man's self-control, but all the same, Vilkas you idiot. Never mind. He'll have his chance to redeem himself.
Notes on the Rhanic:
Ortallan - outsider
Ainta - your name
Dim Admorai - Not Nords
Roketeenai - two handed weapons, based on keteen (compensation) and ro (over)
Grondlann - greatsword, based on lann (sword) and I'm not translating the rest, but let's just say it's the unsubtle version of roketeen.